


I Want My Baby Back

by koganphrancis



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: GGE 16, M/M, Mentions of canon violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 20:10:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8910346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koganphrancis/pseuds/koganphrancis
Summary: Things you’d like included in your gift: Mandy being a bad ass sister and Ian’s bestfriend and being super happy for themPrompt: not an AU, and it'd be cool if it was set around the time Mickey came out, like maybe after he came out and they're still all over the moon about it all and just incredibly in love,  cheesy pick up lines, cuddling, kissing, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, cheeky smiles





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Avsa](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Avsa).



> For Avsa, whomever you may be :) I hope you like my little story I wrote just for you!

Ian stopped laughing pretty quick, he felt a sharp pain in his ribs.

“Yeah, there-that’s what you get,” Mickey taunted, he laughed for a second, but then he got serious too.   He just stared into some space between himself and the ground, not looking at Ian.

Ian walked over next to Mickey where he was sitting on the trunk of a car and wrapped his arm around him. Mickey leaned towards Ian a bit, and Ian brought his hand up to the back of Mickey’s neck and placed a kiss on the top of his head.

“Let’s get going, I’m freezing my ass off sitting on this thing,” Mickey said, pushing himself to his feet.

“Bet I can get it burning hot for ya…” Ian said, grinning brightly.

“Okay, tough guy, let’s go.”

But they only got a few steps down the sidewalk before Ian was clenching his side again and taking short, painful little breaths.

“Mick, ow, I think something’s maybe really wrong. Maybe I should go see Vee.”

Mickey wrapped his arm around Ian’s waist and got him turned around and they slowly walked back to the bar. As soon as they were through the door, Mickey was yelling, “Veronica!” at the top of his lungs. He helped Ian over to a bar stool while Vee came running from the room in the back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Ian-he’s having trouble breathing. He said his ribs hurt a few minutes ago…” Mickey’s blue eyes were full of concern. He was watching Ian closely the entire time he was talking to Vee.

Vee opened up Ian’s coat and gently pushed on his ribcage, but Ian pulled back with a painful gasp.

“Baby, you might have some broken ribs, you gotta get to the hospital,” she said.

“Hospital? Why can’t you just fix him?” Mickey demanded.

“Mickey, there’s cracked ribs and then there’s broken ribs-cracked ribs I can handle, but broken means they might puncture something in there. He needs x-rays to make sure he’s okay,” Vee said gently. “Kev will drive you guys, okay?”

It took a bit of effort on Kev and Mickey’s part to get Ian up into the cab of Kev’s delivery truck, but they managed. Mickey climbed in behind Ian once he was in and Kev ran around to the driver’s side. It was snowing to beat the band now, so Kev had to go slow despite Mickey trying to make him go faster.

“You drive like an old lady-should’ve let me drive,” Mickey muttered darkly.

“You guys are bleeding all over my truck,” Kev said, not really thinking.

Mickey’s eyebrows shot up to the top of his hair line. “Well, give me back the money you robbed from me and I’ll get the truck fucking detailed.”

They went over a pothole and Ian groaned, and then leaned against Kev.

Mickey gently pawed at Ian’s arm. “Hey, lean on me,” he said softly.

“I’d have to slouch, Kev’s taller,” Ian gasped out.

The look Mickey shot Kevin was damn near lethal, and Kev saw it.

“Uh, no need to get the truck detailed-some paper towels and that shit I use to wipe down the bar and she’ll be good as new. I’ll take care of it,” Kevin said nervously.

Mickey shot Kev one last glare and then looked straight ahead out the window.

When they got to the hospital, Kev helped Mickey get Ian out of the truck. Mickey got Ian inside and lowered him down onto one of the chairs in the waiting area. The place was packed, lots of injuries and accidents occur on snowy nights in Chicago.

Mickey went up to the counter and waited his turn, and while he was still waiting Kev came in and handed Mickey the keys to his truck.

“I’ll leave the truck with you and take the El back-looks like you guys will be here a while,” Kevin told him.

Mickey nodded. “Uh, thanks-for the ride and for letting us use the truck to get home.”

“No problem, man. I hope he’s going to be okay. Call us if you need anything, okay?” Kev clapped Mickey on the back, walked over and said goodbye to Ian, and went back out into the snowy night.

Mickey finally got to the front of his line and tried to tell the nurse what was happening. She barely looked up at him and it took him a moment to get her to understand he was there for his friend, not himself.

She finally looked up and over to the chairs where Mickey was pointing.

“Are you sure you don’t need a doctor too? You’re pretty beat up,” she said.

“I’m fine,” Mickey bit off, losing his temper by the second. “You have to take care of my friend, he might have broken ribs, he’s having trouble breathing.”

The nurse leaned way over the counter. “Sir? You, the redhead! Are you having trouble breathing?”

“I’m okay,” Ian weakly called back.

The nurse looked at Mickey. “Sorry, but unless he’s in immediate distress, he’s going to have to wait his turn. Have him fill this out,” she said, shoving a clipboard into Mickey’s hand.   It had a pen dangling from a chain-Mickey wished he could wrap it around her neck until SHE was in distress.

Mickey went and sat down next to Ian. “Why didn’t you tell her you were having trouble breathing?” he groused.

“Because it hurts to breathe, but I’m not having trouble actually getting oxygen,” Ian explained.

“We’re gonna be here all night,” Mickey observed.

“Mhm,” agreed Ian.

Mickey insisted on filling out the form for Ian, helping him get out his wallet so Mickey could copy down his Obamacare insurance info and social security number.

“They want a contact person,” Mickey said, reading as he went down the form.

“You,” Ian said.

Mickey looked up at him. “Me?”

“You’re here,” Ian said for the second time that day. Mickey broke into a big smile and wrote down his name and information.

Mickey was reading off all the possible conditions and diseases Ian might have had, and Ian had to keep saying, “no” over and over. “Mick, just check them all as ‘no’-I’ve never had any disease, surgery, or allergic reactions.”

“Well, it’s also asking if you’re sexually active-you want me to lie?” Mickey grinned.  

Ian rolled his eyes. “Answer what you know that’s a yes, put no to everything else, all right?”

Mickey flipped the form over and groaned. There was a whole other section asking for family history.

“I don’t know any of that shit,” Ian said. “Clayton seemed pretty healthy the one time I met him and my mom’s…not healthy mentally and probably anything physically wrong with her is because of how she lives, and not anything hereditary.”

“Think we should call Fiona?” Mickey asked. Ian looked at him like he had three heads.

“Mick, it’s just my ribs-they don’t need to know if Monica had her appendix out or whatever, all right?”

Mickey looked at him with concern. “I just want to be thorough…I don’t want them to miss anything.”

Ian gave him a soft smile. “I’ll be fine, Mickey. Hell, when we were kids and had to go to a clinic, Frank didn’t tell them our real names half the time. He was determined to stay off the grid.”

They got the form filled out and Mickey returned it to the counter, and then they just sat and waited.

After what seemed like a really long time, a couple of cops walked in, supporting a passed out drunk between them. They dumped him into a chair and one of the cops walked to the counter and the other one took a moment to look around the waiting room. He was the same police officer who had told Mickey he wanted to get home to his husband Carlos.

“You guys all right?” the cop asked.

“We think Ian might have some broken ribs,” Mickey said. “Ain’t you supposed to be home?”

“Wound up pulling a double, we’ve got guys calling out left and right with colds and flu,” the older man replied. “You been here since I saw you at the bar?”

“Pretty much,” Mickey replied.

“That’s over…,” the cop pushed back his jacket sleeve to see his watch, “four hours. Hold on, let me see if there’s anything I can do.”

He walked over to the counter and was talking and gesturing for a couple of minutes. Mickey looked at Ian. He looked exhausted, and had dark purple circles under his eyes. He looked pale as a ghost even through the dried blood that still covered his face.

Carlos’ husband was standing in front of them again, so Mickey took his eyes off of Ian and looked up. The cop had a tall burly hospital employee with him.

“Guys, this is Sam-he’s gonna get you cleaned up and then hopefully the doctor will be able to see you. The desk said it’ll still be about thirty to forty-five minutes,” the officer said.

“No, great, that’s fine, that’s progress,” Mickey said. “Thank you-again-for earlier too, now.”

“Just doing my job.”

“I hope you get to go home to Carlos soon,” Mickey said sincerely.

“I hope you guys get to go home soon, too,” he said. His partner came up just then and they left.

Sam helped Ian up from the chair and brought them to a locked door that he opened with his ID card hanging from a lanyard, revealing a small square room. There was a half wall dividing the room. Next to the door there was a wooden bench with some hooks in the wall over it, and on the other side of the divider, there was a plastic bench screwed into the floor with a drain under it. On that wall there was a shower head a few feet away from the bench and a removable shower head on a hose was on the wall closer to the plastic bench.

“You can both get cleaned up,” Sam told them. He walked over to a locker next to the wooden bench and unlocked that with a small brass key. He took out a hospital gown and a set of scrubs, plus two packages of those little fuzzy socks with traction on the bottom they have in hospitals. From the top shelf he removed a handful of towels and two facecloths and put it all down on the bench. There was a plastic bin in the locker and he took out a small wrapped bar of soap from there and put it on top of the towels, then locked the cabinet back up.

“I’ll get you some bags to put your dirty clothes into,” Sam said. “You can start getting undressed.” He left and Mickey helped Ian with his clothes. They had taken their coats off hours ago and Mickey had carried those in under his arm.

Sam returned with two big clear plastic bands with handles. Mickey already had Ian naked and sitting on the plastic bench.

“You guys want my help?” Sam asked.

“Naw, I’ve got this,” Mickey said. “Go grab a smoke or something.” Mickey had smelled the cigarette smoke on Sam when they were walking to the room.

“You can have a shower too, you’re pretty messed up,” Sam said. “Just don’t slip and fall or nothing, or it’ll be my ass. There’s an emergency call button if you need it,” he pointed out. Sure enough there was a string you could reach from the plastic bench attached to a button on the wall.

“We’ll be fine. Thanks,” Mickey said.

Sam said, “I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes. This door locks automatically when it shuts, so only someone with a keycard can come in. But really, don’t be afraid to use that button if you need to.”

Mickey and Ian nodded and Sam left. Mickey shrugged. “Might as well get clean too,” he said. He quickly stripped down, leaving all of his and Ian’s clothes over on the wooden bench. He walked back opening up the little bar of soap.

“Camay Beauty Bar,” he read from the packaging, “ooh la la.”

Ian almost fell of the bench. “Ooh la la?” he repeated. “Since when did you get so gay?”

“Hey, I came out tonight, remember? All the gay I’ve been holding back all this time is bound to start coming out.”

Ian laughed, and groaned, and tried not to laugh.

“Oh, man, sorry,” Mickey said.

“No, it’s okay,” Ian said.

Mickey took the nozzle showerhead off the wall and got the water running nice and warm. He started at the top of Ian and figured he’d work his way down. Since Sam hadn’t given them any shampoo, Mickey rubbed the minibar of soap into Ian’s hair, gently working up a good lather. He rinsed the soap away and then used the facecloth to start washing Ian’s face. He let the warm water do most of the work in getting the dried-on blood to float away, he didn’t want to harshly scrub at Ian’s face and ears and neck and reopen any cuts.

Once he was satisfied he had cleaned Ian up as much as possible, he hosed down the rest of his body to be sure the blood and soap that had been running down all got rinsed away. He shut the water off and got a couple of towels, handing one to Ian while he stood behind him and dried Ian’s hair. Mickey knew Ian couldn’t lift his arms to do that himself. Mickey grabbed one more dry towel and draped it over Ian’s shoulders.

“You doing okay? You’re being awful quiet,” Mickey said, looking at him while he gingerly dried off his thighs and knees.

“I’m good-it felt good. Thanks, Mick.”

“Okay. I’m gonna do a quick rinse off myself, then we’ll get you dressed.” Mickey walked over to the showerhead in the wall and gave himself a much quicker, rougher shampoo and shower. He could feel cuts trying to reopen and held back in those spots, but he didn’t want Ian catching a chill, so he didn’t take too much time to be careful.

He shut the water off and got more dry towels for himself, rubbing himself dry quickly and then bringing the slipper socks over to Ian, along with Ian’s work boots. Ian would need them to walk across the wet floor. Mickey got that stuff on Ian’s feet, and then got the hospital gown and got Ian tied into that. Then they walked over to the wooden bench together and Mickey helped him sit again, and then got dressed in the clean scrubs and socks Sam had put out for him, and put on his own boots as well.

There was a light knock on the door, and then Sam came in with a wheelchair.

“Perfect timing,” he said. “Hop aboard.” Sam and Mickey helped Ian stand up from the bench and then get into the chair. Mickey grabbed their coats and bags and followed Sam to an exam cubicle. “Doc will be here soon, just sit tight,” Sam said, after getting Ian settled on the gurney in the cubicle.

A doctor came in, did a quick exam, then sent Ian for x-rays, which took another hour.

When they were finally back in the cubicle, the doctor reappeared fairly quickly.

“Yup, broken ribs, three of them,” he said abruptly. “All on the right side. We’re gonna give you a prescription for some strong painkillers, plus this doohickey for you to breathe into to stave off pneumonia, but you can’t start using it for a few days. The painkillers won’t let you know if you’re blowing too hard and you could do further injury.” He held up the plastic device, wrapped in a clear plastic bag, and explained how it worked and how often he wanted Ian to use it-basically once an hour when he was awake. He asked Ian if he understood how it worked, and Ian nodded.

“Don’t worry, he’s great at blowing,” Mickey couldn’t help but remark.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “So, that brings us to other instructions: strict bed rest for a week, no going up and down stairs, no lifting anything heavier than ten pounds, no rigorous physical activity. While you’re on the painkillers, I want you to get up and walk around once every six hours, for your lungs. Once you’re off them, that’s still a good idea, but if you don’t feel up to it, blowing into the thing will suffice.”

“A week?” Ian said, his eyes lighting up. He thought recovery would take longer than that.

“A week’s bed rest,” the doctor reiterated. “Your ribs will take a good four to six weeks to heal.”

“But, he can go back to, ah, normal activities after a week, as long as he takes it easy?” Mickey asked.

The doctor shook his head. “No, that’s just how long we’ll keep him on the narcotics. After that you’ll have to get by on Tylenol or ibuprofen,” the doctor said to Ian. “Believe me, you’ll be feeling pain for a while anytime you exert yourself enough to take a deep breath.”

Ian and Mickey looked at each other in dismay. Six weeks?

“I want you to come back and be seen by a doctor in two weeks, and whoever you see will probably want to see you two weeks after that as well. In the meantime, get plenty of rest, drink lots of milk for the calcium, and try not to move around too much,” the doctor said, signing a chart and getting ready to leave.

“Just so we know exactly what you’re saying,” Mickey began, “even if Ian wasn’t doing any of the…exerting…he still shouldn’t be doing…anything?”

The doctor shook his head. “I’m afraid not-anything at all that causes him to inhale deeply, even if he’s flat on his back, shall we say? He can’t be doing that stuff, not on the drugs and when he’s off, he won’t want to.”

Even kissing Mickey always took his breath away. Ian and Mickey were both very disappointed.

The doctor looked at them looking at each other, and then looked more closely at Mickey. “Did you get yourself looked at while you’ve been here?” he asked.

“No, why, what’s wrong with me?” Mickey asked defensively.

“You were in the fight too?” the doctor asked. As per hospital protocol, they had spoken to Ian alone to determine his injuries hadn’t been caused by the person who brought him in, and Ian assured them he had acquired them in a bar fight. Mickey nodded in response to the doctor’s question. The doctor pulled his little flashlight out of his chest pocket and shone it in Mickey’s eyes.

“You might have a slight concussion. I want someone to stay awake for the next twelve hours with someone checking you every two hours and if you feel nauseous or dizzy or seem disoriented in anyway, they need to call 911 immediately and get you an ambulance, do you understand?”

Mickey gave the guy an “are you out of your mind” look, but knew if he wanted to get Ian home, he needed to agree with whatever this joker had to say.

“And the person checking on you can’t be Mr. Gallagher here. He’ll be impaired on drugs, plus he should try to get six hours of uninterrupted sleep. Do you have anyone who can look after you?” the doctor said, ready to put them both in hospital beds if necessary.

“Yeah, we’ve got people, don’t worry,” Mickey said, thinking of both of their full houses. Now that he was thinking about it, it made the most sense to bring Ian to his house.

“We should go to my house, Ian. We’ll just have to get you up the front steps and then everything’s on one level,” Mickey said. Ian thought for a moment, then nodded his head in agreement.

The doctor said he’d sign Ian’s release papers and send a wheelchair to take him to the door, as per hospital rules. While they waited, Mickey and a nurse helped Ian get into a pair of scrubs since his clothes were caked in blood.

“You want we should bring these back?” Mickey asked, indicating the scrubs he and Ian were both wearing now.

The nurse gave a weary sigh. “Everybody from the doctors to the janitors gives them to whoever they’re sleeping with, two more pairs walking out of here on their own ain’t gonna break us,” she said. She handed Mickey a sheet of instructions that had printed out at the nurses’ station and made sure they had the breathing apparatus.

“There’s a direct number to a hotline if you have any questions-someone’s there twenty-four hours to help, so don’t hesitate to call if you need it,” she said. They assured her they’d use it if necessary and then Sam showed up with a wheelchair, so they could finally leave.

Mickey found Kev’s truck in the emergency room’s parking lot without trouble, it was now nearly three in the morning and it was one of the few vehicles there. The snow had stopped completely and the roads were pretty much cleared and salted; they had no trouble getting home.

Mickey fished out his cell phone when he pulled up to the Milkovich house and called Mandy. She answered with a sleepy, “What the fuck?”

“Tell Iggy and Colin to get their asses out here and help me,” Mickey said.

“Bitch, get them yourself,” Mandy replied.

“It’s for Ian.”

“I’ll send them right out,” Mandy said, sounding suddenly awake. The Milkovich brothers were outside in record time, Mandy must’ve lit a fire under their ass.

Mandy was holding the front door open.

“Svetlana told us what went down-I can’t believe you came out to dad,” Mandy said as they were shuffling Ian inside.

“Considering he caught me and Ian in the act just around ten months ago, I would hardly say I came out to him today…yesterday,” Mickey growled as they made their way down the hall to his bedroom. “If he honestly thought fucking one whore was going to make me straight, he should be governor of Indiana.” He turned his head to look at Iggy. “Drive Kev’s truck over the the Alibi and park it in the back alley. There’s still a winter parking ban and I don’t want to have to pay a fine if it gets ticketed for being on our street.” Mickey handed over the keys and Iggy started to take off back up the hall.

“And put a hat and scarf on, numbnuts, you’re gonna have to walk back!” he called after him.

Colin helped Mickey get Ian into the bedroom, and Mandy went over to the bed and pulled down the sheet and blankets so Ian could get in.

“Mick, I need to use the bathroom first,” Ian said. He had peed at the hospital when they got there, but that was hours ago now.

“Okay, sure, need help?” Mickey said. Ian just rolled his eyes and shuffled back into the hall.

Mickey turned to Mandy. “The instructions from the hospital said he’ll probably be most comfortable on an incline-can you grab all the spare pillows you can find, and I figure we’ll use a couch cushion to prop him up?” Mandy nodded and they both took off for other rooms in the house, Mickey keeping an ear out in case it turned out Ian needed some help after all.

The hospital had given Ian a blister pack with four pills in it to get him through the night, and Mickey figured Mandy or one of his brothers could go get the prescription filled in the morning. Normally he wouldn’t trust his brothers to pick up strong painkillers, but he figured if he threatened to cut their balls off, since they were for Ian they’d know Mickey meant it, and they’d obey.

Mickey and Mandy were fixing up the bed when Ian came back.

“Got those pills, Mick?” Ian asked tiredly.

“Yeah, let me get you some water,” Mickey said, digging the pack out of his coat pocket.

“I’ll get it,” Mandy said, giving Ian a kiss on the cheek as she passed by him on her way out the door.

Ian looked at the bed askance. “What’s with the couch cushion?” he said.

“The instructions say you’ll be more comfortable on an incline-give it a try.”

Ian slowly lowered himself onto the bed. Mickey had used pillows to rest the couch cushion on like a wedge. Ian had to admit it was better than sitting up straight, and he couldn’t even imagine how he’d get back up if he laid down flat.

“This is nice, Mickey, thank you.”

“No problem-you want a pillow behind your head?”

“Yeah, that’d probably feel good too,” Ian said.

Mickey took his own pillow from his side of the bed and placed it under Ian’s head, holding his neck gently in one hand. Ian looked up at him with his big eyes.

“What are you gonna sleep on?” Ian asked.

“The mattress, what do you think?” Mickey said, puzzled.

“What will you use for a pillow?”

“Don’t need one.”

“Mickey…” Ian said in a wheedling tone.

“Ian…” Mickey used the same tone right back. “I’ll be fine-if we need more pillows after tonight, I’ll get some. But I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Mandy finally came in with the water.

“Took you long enough,” Mickey groused.

“Svetlana was up with Yevgeny, I was giving her an update,” Mandy said, handing the glass to Ian. Mickey popped out two pills and handed them to Ian.

“Before I forget,” Ian said to Mandy, “Mickey needs to checked on every two hours-he might have a concussion. You’ll do it?”

Mandy just nodded. Ian kept looking at her. Mickey rolled his eyes.

“She’ll do it, Ian, take the pills,” Mickey said.

“If he’s pukey, or seems disoriented…”

“Call 911 immediately,” Mandy and Mickey said together.

“Ian, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to do this for my hard headed brother,” Mandy snarked, sticking her tongue out at Mickey. Ian took his pills. Mandy took the water glass from him and put it on the dresser, then sat down on Mickey’s half of the bed.

“Hey! That’s my spot, move your ass!” Mickey groused.

“I want to hear all about your big coming out!” Mandy insisted. “Figures I was stuck at work.”

“Mandy, Ian needs to sleep…” Mickey started.

“And the pills will take at least fifteen minutes to kick in, just give me the highlights.”

“She’s got a point, Mickey. It’ll be like hearing a bedtime story,” Ian said, his big eyes imploring Mickey.

“Uh, fine. But you still gotta move, Mandy. That’s my spot.” Mickey lay down on the bed in his newly acquired scrubs. He figured he was clean from his shower and they made nice pajamas since he couldn’t get naked with Ian.

“Really, Mandy, it was no big deal,” he said, using his hands to prop up his head since he didn’t have a pillow.

“No big deal? To say you were gay in front of dad and everyone he knows?” Mandy wasn’t buying it. “Were you high?”

“Nah, dealing with some high strung people, is all. Svetlana kept threatening to tell Dad I was still with Ian, so I finally got sick of it and told him myself to take her power away,” Mickey hedged.

“Wait, but why tell him in front of everyone though?” Mandy asked, sensing there was still something Mickey was holding back.

“Because if I just told him, he’d either whack Ian or just force me to fuck Svetlana till I wasn’t gay or whatever, so…” Mickey just let it trail off. He was glad Ian was so far above him on his pillow and cushion heap that they couldn’t see each other’s faces. Mandy would know in an instant Ian had something to do with it, Mickey bet. He’d probably look all guilty and apologetic and shit. “Anyway, it was just time. Dad can’t pretend if everyone else knows the score. Mandy, you gotta get out of here so Ian can get some sleep. See ya in two hours.”

Mickey made it through the night without incident, and long before the twelve hours were up he told Mandy to quit checking on him, it was waking Ian up. Every time Mandy went to check on him, Mickey was lying face first on the mattress, his arm thrown up over his head. He was just like Yevy. But he was awake to keep an eye on Ian. Ian always heard the door open and them whispering though. After the third time it happened, Mickey told Ian he could go wait on the couch for Mandy to check on him.

“How?” Ian said. “I have the cushion to half of it-don’t lie in a hole, Mickey. Besides, I sleep better when you’re next to me. And besides, this is the six hour mark, I’m supposed to get up and walk around anyway.” But then two hours later when Mandy’s checking Mickey awoke Ian again, Mickey told her to knock it the fuck off and not come back.

The next day, around noon, there was a knock at the door. Mandy opened the door a crack and said, “Got a warrant?” to the cop standing on their porch.

“Not here on official business, ma’am,” the man replied. “Just wanted to ask if Mickey Milkovich would be able to see me later on today?” He handed Mandy a business card that had Sgt. William Henderson, Chicago Police Department and a phone number printed on it. Mandy flipped it over and “3PM” was written there in pen. “Tell him I’m Carlos’ husband, and if he would rather speak to me some other time, he can call that number, but otherwise I’ll swing back by. Thanks.” He turned and walked down the stairs.

“What do you think he wants?” Mandy hissed, when she called Mickey out into the hall to give him the message without waking up Ian.

“Fuck should I know? Maybe he’s just checking up on Ian. He seemed nice enough last night and he’s giving us a few hours to hide any illegal shit we have lying around, so…” Mickey shrugged.

Ian had woken up before the policeman was supposed to be back, so Mickey caught him up and Ian didn’t seem too worried, but then, Ian was flying pretty high on painkillers.

When the police sergeant came back, Mickey answered the door and Sgt. Henderson once again assured Mickey he was there in an unofficial capacity.

“How’s that tall redhead?” he asked after Mickey had let him in and shut the door behind him.

“A few broken ribs, but doing okay. You want to see him? Come on.” Mickey started down the hallway, waving to the cop to join him. Ian was sitting up in bed, awake, with blissful smile on his face.

“Ian, this is Sgt. Henderson, from last night?” Mickey said.

Ian tilted his head and smiled wider. “I remember. Carlos’ husband,” he said.

Henderson laughed and said, “That’s right. Glad to see you’re on the mend.” Then he looked back at Mickey. “Look, I won’t take up much of your time, my partner is out in the cruiser, but I wanted to let you know your father was formally charged this morning. In addition to breaking parole and general mayhem, the DA is going to charge him for a hate crime.”

Mickey’s eyes got wide.

“Listen, you don’t have to do anything. There were plenty of witnesses and he shouted a lot of homophobic things right out in the street while we were placing him under arrest. You and Mr. Gallagher here don’t have to do anything, but I wanted you to know you can press charges if you wish, since you were both beaten by Terry,” Sgt. Henderson said.

Mickey looked at Ian, who was paying close attention and fighting through the haze of the painkillers, Mickey could tell. Mickey took in all of Ian’s bruises and thought about how seriously he had been injured and how it could’ve even been worse. Mickey rubbed at his bottom lip with the side of his thumb.

“I’ll do it,” he said, soft but sure. “I’ll press charges.”

“Me too,” Ian said from the bed. He knew Mickey was doing it for him, and he wanted to do it for Mickey. He’d never forget the sight of Mickey’s head bouncing off the barroom floor when Terry threw him down.

“All right then,” Sgt. Henderson said. “You’ll have to come down to the station to fill out the formal complaint, do you want a ride?”

Mickey started to say no, but Ian was already trying to get up off the bed. “Come on, Mick-when’s the next time we’re gonna get offered a ride in a cruiser for a good reason?”

Mickey laughed and agreed and Sgt. Henderson said he’d wait in the car for them.

“Might be a while, getting him dressed ain’t gonna be easy,” Mickey said.

“We’ll wait,” the officer said kindly. “This is important.”

Out in the cruiser, his partner was going to put the car in gear once Henderson shut the door. “Hold up, we’re giving them a ride to the station to file charges.”

“A Milkovich is snitching on one of his own?” his partner said. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I think that young Milkovich is doing this for one of his own. I’m glad he’s putting his boyfriend before his piece of shit dad.”

“Amen, man.”

Ian was spending his time in a pleasant opiate haze over the next few days, but Mandy missed her best friend. Lots of times she’d be trying to talk to him and he’d doze off right in the middle of a sentence. She wanted to be all happy about Ian finally being able to talk about having a boyfriend, even if it was her grumpy brother.

Said brother was grumpier than ever. Since Ian wasn’t going to be able to work for at least a month, he needed to hustle to try to cover the income gap. He brainstormed ideas to try to pull in more money with his Mickey’s Girls business, but the men who frequented that only had so much disposable income to throw around. Kev let Mickey have some bartending shifts, and they put a collection jar on the bar to try to raise some money for Ian.

Ian didn’t like the idea of that. “I don’t need charity, Mandy,” he told her when she told him about it.

“It’s not charity. People like you Ian, and they want to help out. They know you’d be the first one to do something for them if they needed it. Even Linda at the Kash and Grab put a jar up when she heard from Debbie you’d been hurt. Just let people love you, you big dope,” she said, gently nudging his leg so she wouldn’t jar his ribs.

Mickey hated having to spend so much time away from Ian, even though when he was with him, all they did was lie around while Ian dozed most of the days and nights away. Mandy and even Svetlana kept track of when Ian needed to get up and walk around, and if it fell during a time when Mickey would be home, they either told him or left him a note. In a way Mickey was glad that all the extra work made him tired enough to sleep when he was home, since he and Ian couldn’t do the things they usual did when they were alone.

Mickey awoke one morning, face down on the mattress as usual. Since Ian was propped up on his cushion mountain, in the night the blankets usually tended to wind up all on him, and Mickey on his lower level would wake up cold and uncovered. This particular morning as he lay there, gathering strength to see if it was time to get Ian up for a walk yet, he noticed a wonderful warm feeling on his backside. Ian’s hand was resting on his right butt cheek, covering it perfectly and radiating body heat. Mickey sighed, letting himself enjoy the warmth, but then realized he was starting to get some morning wood. That would never do, as there was no way they could do anything about it.

Mickey jumped out of the bed, barely being careful of Ian. He could feel the cold floor of the bedroom right through his socks, and that helped with halting his erection. He walked to the bathroom thinking up the most unsexy thoughts he could think of to will it away entirely. Luckily he caught a glimpse of Svetlana on his way down the hall and there was nothing like the sight of his wife to kill a boner.

Once Ian’s prescriptions ran out, life got a lot harder for him. He was still in a lot of pain and Tylenol barely took the edge off. Plus, any time he and Mickey took a kiss any deeper than a lingering peck, he’d forget and try to take a deep breath-or the feel of Mickey’s lips on his would take his breath away causing him to gasp-and he’d be in a world of hurt. He’d waited so long for Mickey to start kissing him, and then waited longer than that for Mickey to be able to kiss him anytime they wanted, and now they couldn’t.

At least Ian had his best friend Mandy to talk to about that. Poor Mickey had no one. The last thing he wanted to do was describe what kissing Ian felt like to his baby sister.

Ian had no problem giving her juicy details. She wasn’t too surprised to learn her brother was actually quite affectionate and tender. For most of their lives until Ian came along, she was the sole recipient of his softer side.

Mickey was doing everything he could to make Ian’s days as comfortable as possible and to help the healing process. He made sure Ian used the breathing apparatus the hospital had sent home with them, and ordered Mandy and Svetlana to be sure he used it when Mickey wasn’t home. Ian did use it because he knew it was necessary, but it did hurt every time he did it and it killed Mickey inside to have to see it. Ian was good about drinking a couple of glasses of milk a day, but Mickey wanted him drinking more.

“Mickey, there’s only so much milk I can stand in a day,” Ian complained.

Mickey went to the store and bought Hershey syrup and strawberry and chocolate Quik mix, and even some Ovaltine and kept switching it up so every time Ian had a glass of milk it was a different flavor. Ian would look at Mickey over the rim of the glass while he drank, his big eyes shining at his surprisingly sweet boyfriend. When Mickey wasn’t home he’d make it for himself and Mandy could see the smile on his face while he gently stirred. She was glad her best friend had a caring boyfriend, and she was glad her brother had someone he cared so deeply about.

Ian had his two week checkup and all they learned was he was on the mend and the doctor would see him in another two weeks.

“Keep doing what you’re doing-plenty of bed rest, keep your lungs clear, limit all physical activity,” the doctor said.

Ian and Mickey slouched in disappointment. Ian knew breathing and moving were still causing him a lot of discomfort, but he had been hoping the doctor would’ve told him it was “safe” to start exerting himself a bit anyway. Even if it hurt, it’d be worth it to get his hands and lips back on Mickey every so often.

Mickey brought home Sudoku and word search puzzle books from one trip to the grocery store. He saw them at the checkout counter and figured they might help Ian pass the time. He was still most comfortable propped up in bed, so the tv in the living room couldn’t entertain him yet. Ian didn’t care too much about Sudoku but he found he did like the word searches. Mickey picked up a Sudoku book and got hooked, and Mandy said they were like an old couple at a retirement home, side by side on the bed doing their puzzles. It was cute.

Mickey kept trying to think of nice things to do for Ian. He brought him home his favorite treats to eat, he paid to upgrade the data plan on Ian’s phone so he could play games on it-and bought the games. One day Mickey decided to go way outside of his comfort zone and offered to give Ian a foot rub. Ian’s face lit up and Mickey knew he could do this, no matter how gay he felt. But, he no sooner started rubbing Ian’s feet and getting a few satisfying moans out of him before Ian asked him to stop.

“Ugh, Mick, I’m sorry, but you’re hands on me…anywhere…makes me… I want, I want you, and…” Ian mumbled out nearly incoherently, but Mickey knew just what he meant. Even when there was no sexual intent, physical contact with Gallagher had always sent off fireworks inside Mickey. He could easily imagine what Ian was feeling. But Mickey wanted him to have that foot rub!

“Yo, Mandy! Get your ass in here!” Mickey yelled.

“What’s up?” Mandy said, poking her head around the door.

“Get in here and rub Ian’s feet,” Mickey said, while Ian protested she didn’t have to.

“Do it yourself, assface,” Mandy said.

“I was-but he can’t take it. Neither can I really. We were both getting…” Mickey finally realized what he was saying and who he was talking to.

“Really? You two, I swear to god,” Mandy said, chuckling and sitting down at the foot of the bed on the other side of Ian’s feet. Ian wanted to tell her she didn’t have to do it, but the girl did give good foot rubs. And, just like her brother, she wanted to do anything to make Ian feel better. She thought it was cute they were so hot for each other.

One day Vee took pity on Mickey and sent him home.

“Business is slow-Kev can keep an eye on the Rub and Tug and I can handle the bar. Go on home,” she told Mickey.

Mickey figured he might as well. Better to sit next to Ian doing Sudoku rather than moping around The Alibi wondering if he was drinking all his milk.

When Mickey got home he went right to their room. Ian was on his spot as usual, but he had his knees drawn up and was talking softly, and Mickey paused at the door when he realized Ian had Yevgeny propped up on his lap so they could look at each other.

“…and so Luke and R2D2 took off and crashed landed in a swamp, a swamp!” Ian was saying in an exaggerating storytelling voice.

“Telling the kid Star Wars?” Mickey said softly from the door.

“Think I’m spoiling it for him? I’m guessing he won’t remember when he sees it if I tell it to him now,” Ian grinned.

“Don’t you know any little kid stories?” Mickey asked, taking his coat and scarf off and coming to sit on the side of the bed.

“Well, sure, but what better story is there than the one about the blue eyed hero who stands up to his evil father and chooses his own path?” Ian said, still looking at the baby but sneaking a glimpse at Mickey to see if he got it. He did.

“Hey, should you be holding him? How are your ribs, man?” Mickey said, both to change the subject and out of genuine concern.

“Mickey, relax. Nothing over ten pounds, remember? Well, this little guy is still right under that, aren’t you?” Yevgeny was looking at Ian in absolute adoration. Ian lightly tickled the baby with the sides of his fingers. “Svetlana brought him in here to keep my company. He’s a fun distraction.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mickey said, not sounding too convinced.

“He’s fun!” Ian insisted. “And besides, have you ever looked at his little feet? They look just like lamb chops and who doesn’t love lamb chops?” Ian rubbed his thumbs over the bottom of the baby’s feet, making him giggle and coo. “Ooh, these little feet are getting cold though,” Ian said to Yevgeny, who was rocking a Pamper and t shirt look. He looked at Mickey. “Could you bring me one of his terrycloth sleepers, please?”

“Why don’t we give him to Svet…” Mickey began, but Ian cut him off.

“Naw, Mickey, please! I can do it. She just changed him a little while ago and brought him in here, so he doesn’t need a diaper change. Just bring me one of his sleepers, okay?”

Mickey got up off the bed and went to Svetlana’s room and got a clean sleeper out of the drawer. He brought it back to Ian and stood over him to watch while Ian cradled Yev in one arm and worked the sleeper onto him with the other. He got the baby snapped into the little outfit in no time.

“How are you so good at that?” Mickey wondered out loud.

Ian grinned up at him. “It’s not that hard, they’re made to be easy on, easy off. Isn’t that right, Yevgeny?” Ian said, nuzzling the top of the baby’s head. Ian straightened his neck and looked at the baby. “He’s getting the sleepy eyes, Mick. I bet if he had a bottle he’d conk right out.”

Mickey looked at Ian for a moment, then realized what he wanted.

“You want me to get him a bottle?” Mickey asked.

Ian grinned and nodded and Mickey stomped off to the kitchen. Svetlana was at the stove making some sort of stew for dinner.

“Yo, Ian says the baby needs a bottle,” he all but barked. Svetlana shot a glare at Mickey but walked over to the refrigerator. She knew he didn’t have the first clue how to heat up the bottles of expressed milk that were kept in there for the baby. She took the cap off and heated one up in the microwave, putting a nipple on it when it was done and shaking the bottle vigorously so there weren’t any hot spots inside.

“Put out arm,” she ordered. Mickey was so surprised he didn’t even think and just obeyed. Svetlana grabbed his hand and twisted so Mickey’s inner wrist was exposed. She sprinkled some milk on it and he pulled his hand away roughly and wiped it on the side of his pants.

“The fuck!?!” he sputtered.

“You must make sure it is right for baby. Not too hot, not too cold. It’s just barely warm, you know?” She sprinkled more on his wrist.

“Okay, okay, Jesus, it’s lukewarm, all right? Would you mind not spraying your tit juice all over me?” Mickey all but yelled.

Svetlana just rolled her eyes. “You swallow what comes out of Orange Boy’s penis, you can handle a little milk on your arm.”

“How did you know I…” Mickey quickly switched tack. “What makes you think I swallow?”

Svetlana snorted a laugh. “Please, you are lazy-spitting means you then need to clean it up. Besides, if you spit it stays in mouth longer. Quicker just to swallow it down and be done.”

Mickey shook his head and took the bottle from her. Last thing he ever thought he’d have in common with his wife was preferences on giving blow jobs.

When he brought the bottle back to the room, Ian took it from him but told Mickey to get comfortable so he could take the baby and give him the bottle. Ian was willing to play the “I’m hurt” card, even though he’d be fibbing, but Mickey settled himself against the headboard and carefully took the baby from Ian, and then the bottle.

“Is his head okay, is he gonna choke?” Mickey asked nervously, wishing Ian could move around more and keep a closer eye on things.

“He’s perfect, Mick, you’re doing fine. And he’s ready, just put the bottle near his lips, he knows what to do.”

Mickey took a deep breath and held it as he slowly brought the bottle near Yev’s mouth. Sure enough, the nipple slid right in and the baby started pulling at it. Mickey adjusted a little and the baby snuggled closer to his chest.

“Aw, he likes that,” Ian said softly. “He can feel your heartbeat.” Ian had sat up and his position was a bit uncomfortable for him, but he barely even noticed, seeing Mickey being so gentle with his son.

“You, ah, you’ve always loved him, huh?” Mickey said, looking down at the baby as something warmed and expanded in his own chest.

“He came from you, and I love every part of you,” Ian replied honestly.

The days continued to pass, all of them becoming more and more of a little family unit, even Svetlana. Mickey and Ian didn’t know where Kenyatta was-Mandy didn’t say and they didn’t ask-but his absence added to the tranquility in the house. Mandy had never in her entire life seen her brother so open and happy.

Ian, however, knew there was more than met the eye. Mickey, in solidarity with Ian’s plight, wouldn’t so much as jerk off, and he was getting grumpier and grumpier as the days went by. Mickey managed to hold it together whenever they spent time with the baby, and even with Mandy unless she pulled the bratty little sister and pushed some of his buttons, but since she usually saw him with Ian, she behaved herself for the most part. She was having too much fun watching them smile like fools at one another to do anything to upset that apple cart.

One morning a little over three weeks after Ian got hurt, Mickey woke up after a night of tossing and turning. He was miserable. To lay there night after night with Ian, but not able to touch, it was taking a toll. He flipped over onto his back and groaned.

“Mick, would you please just go in the bathroom and do it?” Ian begged, not for the first time.

“Not until you can,” Mickey muttered darkly.

“That’s crazy-if it was you lying here with busted ribs, would you be pissed if I jerked off?” Ian said.

“Of course not…” Mickey couldn’t picture himself denying Ian anything ever again.

“Well then how is this different? Go in there and do it for me, if nothing else!” Ian pleaded.

“I won’t like it,” Mickey insisted darkly.

“Duly noted.”

Mickey got off the bed and stomped to the bathroom. He kicked the door so hard it bounced back open a few inches, but he didn’t notice. The rest of the house was asleep. Mickey reached down into the pile of magazines and found his one photo of Ian he had in his possession. He tried not to think about the last time he used it to try to get off, and shoved his hands down his boxers. He felt confined, so he pulled the boxers down and tried to start again. Svetlana or Mandy had some sort of hand lotion on the sink; he squirted some into his right hand. No sense in wasting lube when he wasn’t going to be putting his dick in anything but his own hand.

He yanked at himself roughly a few times, wishing it was Ian’s big warm hand wrapped around his cock instead. “Come on, come on, come on,” he told himself, getting louder and louder. Geez, this wasn’t fun at all. He gave up talking to himself and just settled for grunting.

Mandy wandered into Ian and Mickey’s room, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “What’s he doing in there?” she said through a yawn.

“Angry masturbating, by the sounds of it,” Ian replied calmly.

“You guys have a fight?”

“Not so much a fight as I insisted he needed to get some relief. He’s been edgy as a long tail cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” Ian said.

“Really? I thought he’s been pretty sweet. You bring out the best in him, Ian. Don’t sell yourself short,” Mandy said, climbing on the bed next to Ian and resting her head on his cushion wedge. Ian just smiled at her.

His ears practically pricked visibly. “He’s almost done,” Ian said.

Mandy laughed and rolled her eyes. “I so did not need to know that.”

Two more grunts and a strangled half shout later, and Mickey was sticking his head around the bedroom door, his face beet red and a sheen of sweat along his hairline.

His fingers gripped the door turning his knuckles white when he saw Mandy on the bed with Ian.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, skank?” he said.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked all innocence, her bright blue eyes staring up at her brother.

“I, uh, Ian,” he said, ignoring her, “I’m gonna have a shower real quick,” Mickey said.

“Why didn’t you just rub one out in there to begin with?” Mandy shouted after him. Mickey’s hand came back through the door, flipping his sister off. She cackled.

“Mandy,” Ian scolded. “The point was to get him to relax. Please don’t rile him up anymore.”

A few days later Sgt. Henderson dropped by the Alibi. “Hey, Mickey, good to see you. I, uh, have some news and I figured you and Ian would want to hear it-okay if I drop by later?”

Mickey said sure and then spent a few hours wondering if the news was going to be good or bad. He appreciated the cop wanting to tell Ian at the same time though, and for the continued courtesy of not just dropping by at the house unannounced.

Back at the house, Sgt. Henderson sat down with Mickey and Ian and Mandy and Svetlana since they were all there.

“So, Mickey-and Ms. Milkovich-your dad struck a plea bargain,” he began.

Mandy gripped Ian’s hand and Ian grabbed Mickey’s hand with his free hand. If that fucker was going to do light time…

“His public defender strongly encouraged it when he found out there was video from the brawl, plus a Russian Orthodox priest was willing to testify to the hate crime charges. Plus, as I said, outside the bar at least a dozen cops heard the anti-homosexual comments he made. With that kind of list of witnesses, the lawyer knew he didn’t have a chance in hell. He got your dad consecutive sentences, fifteen years each, on the two hate crime counts, plus five years for violating his probation.” He looked at the group expectantly.

“So…how long before he’s out?” Ian finally asked.

“Thirty-five years,” the policeman said patiently.

“No, but really,” Mickey asked, “like with overcrowding and parole and shit, how long?”

“Guys, he’s ineligible for parole. He’s already proven he can’t behave on the outside, plus hate crimes are taken very seriously,” the sergeant said.

“But, overcrowding?” Mickey tried again-Terry had come home lots of times for that very reason.

“He’ll be the one on the bottom of the pile having prisoners dumped on top of him-he’s not getting out till you guys are older than he is now,” Henderson reassured them.

Ian let out a whoop.

“Shit, Ian, did that hurt?” Mickey said, immediately concerned.

“Actually, no, not really?” Ian said, looking at Mickey. “It just sort of came out, but I feel okay.”

“I’ll let you guys, and ladies, get down to celebrating. Have a good night, uh, don’t drink and drive and don’t get so rowdy the neighbors are calling us, okay?”

They all thanked the cop and Mickey saw him out. At the door Sgt. Henderson shook his hand. “I’m glad everything worked out and that Ian didn’t too banged up. He seems like a good one.”

Mickey beamed a smile at him. For all that he hated cops, he figured he had found the exception to the rule. “Thanks for everything you’ve done for us.”

They did celebrate that night, with pizza and beer, but still Ian and Mickey avoided any contact. After that whoop, Ian did start to get achy again and went to lie down till the pizzas came. He and Mickey spent the celebration giving each other longing looks. Even Mandy didn’t want to make fun of her brother, seeing the hunger in his eyes.

Ian had his four week checkup a couple of days after the party. The doctor was poking him and prodding him and listening to his lungs and was all smiles.

“I think we can ease up on the restrictions, if you feel up to it, Ian,” he said. Ian’s and Mickey’s eyes both lit up, smiles breaking out across their faces.

“That’s not to say you’re free to go wild,” the doctor was quick to add. “I still want you on very restricted movement, and if anything starts to hurt, you stop it right away and sit down, you understand? The last thing you want to do is reinjure yourself.”

“But, like, if there’s no heavy lifting-just heavy breathing-that’s okay?” Mickey asked eagerly. He was willing to do all the work, just as long as it wouldn’t hurt Ian.

The doctor smiled. “Yeah, just take it easy, especially until you know what you’re up to, okay, Ian? No slamming into walls or getting grabbed around the middle, right?”

“Right!” Ian and Mickey said together with perfect timing.

While Mickey went to get their junker of a car from the parking garage down the block (“Don’t want you wasting any energy,” he told Ian), Ian texted Mandy the good news.

She called him back immediately. “My brother’s finally gonna get some tonight? That’s great,” she said, “for both of you.”

She could hear Ian’s smile though the phone, “Yeah.”

When they arrived home, Mandy was on her way out the door with a big bag over her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Mickey asked.

“Aunt Rande’s-I’m gonna stay for a couple of days. Vee and Fiona took in Svetlana and the baby and all the girls, the place is all yours,” Mandy said.

Ian’s mouth dropped open. “My sister opened up her house to a bunch of whores? Did she lock Lip and Carl in the cellar or something?”

“Don’t know, don’t care!” Mandy sang out happily. “I just called Lip and explained that you were owed a break, and that Mickey had been taking such good care of you, and that I still have my baton. Everything fell into place after that.”

“You are the best best friend a guy ever had, Mandy Milkovich,” Ian said.

“And don’t you forget it,” she said, going up on tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek. She kissed Mickey on his cheek too, but made it more sloppy and wet so Mickey had to wipe it off with his sleeve.

Mickey and Ian got themselves inside the empty house and let four weeks of not being able to touch each other turn into one of the best nights of their lives.

They went inside and headed straight for the bedroom.  Mickey wasted no time in throwing everything off the bed except for the two pillows they normally used.  He figured he could put the couch back together later.  He turned to Ian, and Ian was already reaching for him, his long arms ready to pull Mickey in.  Mickey stepped up close to Ian and they kissed.  Finally after weeks of waiting, they were kissing.  Mickey felt instantly drunk, Ian's soft lips and tongue moving against his own was even better than he remembered.  Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and when Ian chased after his lips with his eyes still closed, Mickey put a gentle hand on Ian's face to get him to open his eyes.

"Ian, Ian, hey, listen," Mickey said softly, his blue eyes looking right into Ian's.  Ian was trying to focus, but it was hard, he had other things on his mind just then, pressing things. 

"We gotta take this slow," Mickey continued.  Ian nodded and moved in to kiss Mickey again.  Mickey had to pull his head back.  He put his other hand up to the other side of Ian's face to hold it there.  "Ian, I'm serious, you gotta promise me right now if anything hurts, you'll let me know and we'll stop and change things…or just full out stop, okay?  I'm not going to be able to get into this if I think you're not gonna stop."

Ian grinned.  "I promise, Mickey.  I won't try to be tough or act like something doesn't hurt if it does.  I don't want to be put back on injured reserve again.  We'll take things slow and easy and if anything hurts, I'll say so."

Mickey's smile at hearing those words could light up downtown Chicago.  Then his face got serious as he focused in on Ian's lips and he gently pulled him into another kiss.  Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey's waist to pull him even closer and Mickey went willingly, not wanting to make Ian use any more strength.  After a moment, Mickey backed up a step so he could unbutton Ian's shirt, placing gentle kisses down his chest as each button revealed more skin.  He was being so careful and delicate with Ian, and each hot kiss gave Ian a shiver of delight and anticipation.  Ian had the feeling he was in for a good, long night of gentle loving.  And so he was.

**Author's Note:**

> So, sorry about the title. It popped into my head as soon as I came up with the rib injury being the catalyst that might cause sexual tension for the guys, but I figure since in canon we have Ian making the painful "guest womb" pun, my referencing a baby backs rib jingle is in keeping with the spirit of the thing, I hope. 
> 
> It was so interesting to insert my thinking into this point of the timeline and try to pretend I didn't know what was coming next for Ian and Mickey. I hope when anyone reads it, they can do the same. 
> 
> Also, I swear when I was reading it over on my tablet and couldn't make corrections I found a typo, but now for the life of me I can't find it again. It's bugging me, LOL. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope it's okay I went with fluff-I didn't want to spice things up too much since the prompt didn't specify a need for anything graphic. Also, I did some cursory online research about busted ribs, but I'm by no means an expert. Same goes for concussions. If I got things wrong, please keep in mind, it's just a story ;)
> 
> Happy Holidays, everyone!


End file.
